


sing it in my sleep

by fadeastride



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:14:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27845878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeastride/pseuds/fadeastride
Summary: It takes three days after leaving the bubble for Travis to check his phone.He deletes most of the texts unread, but there's one from Nolan that just says, "You should come see me."
Relationships: Travis Konecny/Nolan Patrick
Comments: 23
Kudos: 299





	sing it in my sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Whom amongst us hasn't written a "TK goes to Winnipeg" fic?
> 
> Many thanks to Autumn for being incredibly helpful when I said, "If you were HYPOTHETICALLY in love with your best friend but he's a moron, where would you take him?"
> 
> Title from _Runnin' Toward The Light_ , which is the only happy Aaron West and the Roaring Twenties song.

It takes three days after leaving the bubble for Travis to check his phone. 

He deletes most of the texts unread, but there's one from Nolan that just says, "You should come see me."

There’s not even a moment of hesitation. He buys a ticket and sends Nolan the flight info in less than five minutes. 

Nolan responds almost immediately with a thumbs up.

His flight is early the next afternoon, and Travis knows he should probably start packing, but he stretches himself out across his bed, instead. He stares at the popcorn ceiling above him and looks for shapes in the bumps until his eyes drift shut.

When he wakes up, it’s dark and he’s not sure if it’s yesterday or tomorrow. The blue light is too bright when he fumbles for his phone, makes him squint to read the time. He stabs blindly through the widgets before setting an alarm and rolling back over.

He packs quickly in the morning, just some clothes and the toiletries bag he uses for roadies. Carry-on or bust, honestly. He gets most of the way to the car before running back inside to grab his mask.

The airport is almost empty, which is nice but also kind of creepy. He ends up with a whole row to himself on the plane, though, and that’s fucking dope. He throws his backpack in the seat next to him and lets his legs splay wide, lets himself take up space. It’s a four hour flight, he’s gonna get as comfortable as he can.

They’ve got that ridiculous new Sonic movie on the flight and Travis watches it gleefully. Twice.

He texts Nolan when the plane lands like he doesn’t already know Nolan’s here, like he hasn’t been here for at least half an hour.

When he finally gets down to Arrivals, Nolan’s sitting on a tiny metal bench. He’s wearing a dark green hoodie with the hood up and his thumbs pushed through the ends of the sleeves. He looks up to see Travis and, even with the mask on, Travis knows he’s smiling by the way the corner of his eyes crinkle.

“Hey,” Nolan says, slinging an arm around Travis in some sad attempt at a bro hug.

“Don’t be an asshole,” Travis huffs, and pulls him in for a real hug.

They stand there too long, probably, before Nolan pulls back and grabs Travis’ suitcase.

“Let’s go, bud.”

Travis goes.

It doesn’t take long to get to Nolan’s place, and Nolan helps Travis drag his stuff into the guest room before flopping on the couch in the living room.

“So,do you wanna talk about-”

“Nope.” Travis absolutely does not.

“Good,” Nolan says. “Me neither. Wanna play something?”

Travis nudges Nolan to one side of the couch with one hand. “Sure.”

They play Call of Duty until Travis dies three times in a row and can’t stop laughing when Nolan thwacks him with a pillow.

He hauls himself to bed after that.

In the morning, Travis wakes to find Nolan already in the kitchen, because Nolan is a disaster but he's a disaster with a regular sleep schedule. 

There's a bowl of cereal on the table, a gallon of milk sitting next to it.

"Couldn't even make me scrambled eggs?" Travis grumbles as he pulls out a chair. 

"Good morning, Nolan. How'd you sleep? Thanks for feeding me," Nolan intones flatly. "Scramble your own fucking eggs if you want them so bad."

He's such a shithead before noon and Travis is always going to think it's hilarious to press his buttons. 

"What're we doing today, Patty-pie?"

Nolan pulls a face and takes a sip of his coffee. “I was thinking we could go to the Assiniboine Zoo. Later, there’s some restaurants I think you’d like and this one brewery-”

“Did you, like, plan this whole trip for me?”

The flush across Nolan’s cheeks is so pink, so fucking pink. “No! I just...there’s just some places I like that I wanted you to see.”

It’s pretty soft, and Travis is pretty soft too, but this is a prime chirping opportunity. He’d be a fool to waste it. “Hey, man. It’s cool. Nothing wrong with taking your bro out on the town.”

“When’s your flight home again?”

Travis’ grin falters. 

“Oh, uh. I, uh, actually didn’t buy a return ticket. Figured I’d just hang until we got sick of each other or something.” 

Nolan is staring past Travis at something in the middle distance.

“Is now a bad time to say I’m sick of you?” He says it deadpan, but the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Fuck you,” Travis says and Nolan barks out a laugh. “You can’t get rid of me that easy. We gotta visit all your little places first. What was the first place you said?”

“The zoo.”

“I love the zoo. Let’s go to the zoo.”

The way Nolan rolls his eyes says he thinks Travis is full of shit, but Travis really does love the zoo. His dad took him to the one in Toronto a few times when he was growing up and it was great.

Except the bird-eating spider they saw that one time. Hard pass on that guy.

The zoo’s legit, though. There’s some chill-ass polar bears and a whole exhibit of toucans and this one cougar who looks at Travis like she’d have no problem eating him if he got any closer to her.

Because he’s an asshole, Nolan pretends he doesn’t want to go into the butterfly exhibit, but he follows Travis in anyway. Travis has never seen so many different kinds of butterflies in his life, and he smiles so hard his face hurts when one lands directly on his nose.

A couple land on Nolan, one on his shoulder and one on his godawful fanny pack (Travis doesn’t know who he thinks he is that he can pull off a fanny pack, but whatever) and Travis snaps a couple pictures. He thinks about sending one to the group chat before deciding against it, setting it as his lock screen instead.

“I told you you’d like the butterflies,” he says when they get out.

“It was fine,” Nolan says, and Travis takes it for the win he knows it is.

Nolan’s little sister calls when they’re walking through the door of Nolan’s place, so Travis excuses himself to the bathroom. When he’s done, he waits outside the room to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“You should take him to The Keg,” he hears Aimee’s tinny voice say over speakerphone.

Nolan snorts. “The Keg is for fuckin’ basics.”

“Yeah, and?” Aimee says, taunting.

Nolan hangs up on her.

“What’s up?” Travis asks, stepping into the room like he hasn’t been there the whole time.

“...Wanna go to The Keg for dinner?”

Travis considers it. “Are you paying?”

“No.”

“Dickhead. Yeah, I guess.”

There's a burger on the menu and Travis orders it just because he knows it’ll piss Nolan off.

“You’re actually a toddler,” Nolan mutters under his breath when the waiter leaves.

“You’re just mad because you’d rather have the burger but feel like you have to be more sophisticated than that.” Travis takes a sip of his watermelon cosmo. “Don’t hate me cuz you ain’t me.”

“I can’t believe you’re drinking that.”

Travis runs his finger around the rim of the glass. “I guarantee it tastes better than whatever the fuck you’re drinking.”

Nolan kicks him under the table. “I’m so glad you’re paying for dinner.”

“Anything for my best girl,” Travis chirps, and Nolan kicks him again.

The food is good, even if Nolan kind of glares at him for the entire meal. He’s used to that sort of thing.

The next morning, when Travis gets up, Nolan’s sitting on the couch in running tights and a hoodie.

“No,” Travis says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“You don’t have to come. I just thought I’d ask.”

Travis heaves a sigh. “Let me get some clothes on.”

Running has always been a necessary evil to Travis, but Nolan likes it. He said once that it helped him get out of his own head. 

It’d be easy, Travis thinks, for them to turn this into a competition, a race, but they don’t. Nolan sets a moderate pace and Travis matches it, side by side. Every now and then, Nolan points out a house he likes or a cafe he’s been meaning to visit. It’s the calmest Travis has felt in months.

Travis takes first shower, because he knows Nolan takes stupidly long showers and he refuses to be screwed out of all the hot water.

“I hate you,” Nolan says as he comes out of the bathroom, scrubbing a towel through his wet hair.

“It got cold at the end, didn’t it?”

“It’s my apartment, I should get to take a hot shower.”

Travis throws a pillow at him. “I am a _guest_. Your mom would be so embarrassed right now.”

Nolan throws the pillow back before tossing his towel over a chair like an animal. Travis thinks that his mom would yell at him for that, too.

“Grab your jacket,” Nolan says. “We’re gonna be outside most of the day.”

People make jokes about the prairie provinces, he knows, but Travis thinks they’re pretty. Nolan drives them out to The Forks to wander through the garden and, even out of season, Travis can see the beauty in the tall grasses and what’s left of the wildflowers.

There’s a lot of cool stuff around the area, rail bridges and Aboriginal sculptures and an amphitheatre. They walk along the river as far as they can, reading the plaques along the way in increasingly ridiculous voices. By the time they get back to the center of The Forks, Travis’s stomach is rumbling.

They grab dinner at Wienerpeg because Travis can’t stop laughing about it.

“It’s not that funny,” Nolan says, but Travis knows he thinks it’s hilarious.

“Wienerpeg,” Travis whispers to himself before busting out laughing again.

They pair their hot dogs with local beers from some bougie hipster place and Nolan looks absolutely in his element. It’s not that Travis doesn’t like the bougie hipster beer, but he’d be just as happy with a Bud Light, if he’s being honest. It’s good to see Nolan like this, though, relaxed, with the beginnings of a smile on his face. He doesn’t smile enough, and Travis thinks that’s a tragedy because his smile is fantastic. Not that he’d ever say that out loud and get chirped to oblivion, but it’s true.

They smoke out once, sitting on the back porch in the late afternoon sun. Nolan rolls the most perfect joints Travis has ever seen, long fingers moving with precision. 

He'd give him shit for being so anal retentive, but they really are perfect joints. 

The lighter's running out of juice and it takes Nolan a few tries to get the flame going to light the damn thing. He takes a hit, holds it, exhales slowly before handing it to Travis. 

Travis inhales and tries not to cough when it hits his lungs. Most of what he smokes back home is cheap shit, but it figures that Nolan would go top shelf. 

He lets it out, watches the smoke curl and fade. It's not long before it sets in, puts his head fuzzy and sweet. 

The sun is low, a soft warmth seeping into Travis's bones and leaving him languid. 

Next to him, he can hear Nolan take another hit, smoke escaping in a little giggle. 

Neither of them says anything for long minutes, just watch the sun slip down below the horizon and take the remnants of the heat with it. 

They sit there a little longer, until the chill settles in and Travis's skin prickles in the cool air.

"Dinner?" Nolan mumbles. 

Travis pushes out of the chair. "Make me pasta."

Nolan tries to smack him and fails. "Fine."

It’s the easiest thing in the world, Travis thinks, just existing in Nolan’s space like this. No urgency, no responsibilities, no expectations. Sitting on Nolan’s counter and swinging his legs while Nolan boils water and gently bullies him feels like the most important thing he’s ever done. It feels like the only things he was ever meant to do were play hockey and sit here like this.

Nice is a dumbshit word, but nice is what it is.

They eat themselves into a carb coma and Travis falls asleep on the couch for a few hours before Nolan pries him up and pushes him toward his room. Travis never even opens his eyes between the couch and his bed.

The next day, they start with more godawful cereal before heading out to St. Vital. It’s more prairie shit, but Travis loves it. 

It’s too early in the season for the skating pond, but Nolan points out where it would be. They take a lap around the area, dodging joggers and making friends with all of the dogs on walks.

“I like to come out here and look at the ducks,” Nolan says.

“We should have brought bread. We could’ve fed ‘em.”

Nolan shakes his head. “I heard bread’s bad for them. I just like to look at them.”

“Gotta steer clear of the geese, though.”

“Oh, fuck the geese.”

When the wind starts to pick up, they trek back home and take up what are now their normal spots on the couch.

Travis is three beers in, just tipsy enough to laugh at everything, too tipsy to drive, but the perfect state to play NHL 2K18. Not, like, well, but enough to hold his own against however many beers Nolan's had. 

Nolan scores again and bellows in his face like a fucking asshole, and he just thinks, _I could do this for the rest of my life._

“What,” he says to no one in particular.

“Hm?” Nolan says, not taking his eyes off the screen.

“I don’t know,” Travis says, because he doesn’t. He’s not sure where that thought came from, or what exactly he means by it. 

Still, he can't shake it. 

The next morning, he sets his alarm for before Nolan gets up and pads into the kitchen. He's almost done cooking when Nolan appears in the doorway. 

"Morning, sunshine!" He singsongs as Nolan takes his place at the table. "I made eggs à la Travis."

He slides a plate in front of Nolan, who raises a single eyebrow. 

"How much butter is in eggs à la Travis?"

"Don't worry about it."

The noise Nolan makes when he puts a forkful in his mouth is borderline obscene.

“Nevermind, I don’t care how much butter is in here.”

Travis grins. He’s mostly useless in the kitchen, but his mom taught him how to make eggs when he was little. He doesn’t make them like this often, but it’s worth it every time he does.

It’s a lazy day, the kind where they just lie on the floor and scroll Netflix for the better part of an hour before putting on a movie they’ve both seen ten times. Travis throws his legs over Nolan’s and they both drift in and out, getting up for snacks before dozing back off.

They sleep there that night, Travis with a throw pillow shoved under his head and Nolan with his cheek pressed against Travis’s stomach, mouth open. In the background, the preview for some romcom plays on repeat.

Somehow, it’s the best Travis has slept in months.

Nolan jabs him in the belly button when the sun comes up, and Travis goes knees-to-chest in an instant.

“What the fuck,” he wheezes as Nolan laughs.

“Get up and shower. You’re gross and I want fancy breakfast.”

The cafe has an outdoor setup with heat lamps turned low, just enough to take the chill off. It’s a cute cafe, just shy of too nice for them, and Nolan buys Travis the overpriced waffle of his dreams. The tables are small and their knees knock together underneath.

“I need more space than you, scoot back,” Nolan bitches.

Travis doesn’t move. “One, it’s not my fault you have ostrich legs.Two, uh, if I scoot back any farther I’m not gonna be able to reach my food.”

The way Nolan rolls his eyes is so fucking fond, even though Travis knows he means for it to be dismissive.

While they wait for their food, Travis looks around the cafe, takes in the ambience or whatever fancy people say.

It’s a lot of couples.

It’s almost exclusively couples.

Which, well.

He eats his waffle and thinks about it. Nolan drives them home and he thinks about it. They get back to the house and turn on the TV and he’s still thinking about it.

Nolan finally breaks the silence. “You’ve never been quiet this long in your life, and I’d say I’m enjoying it but, mostly, it’s just freaking me out.”

This is uncharted territory for Travis, so he starts slow. “I’m thinking about breakfast.”

“I know their waffles are good, but I wasn’t expecting you to, like, have a food epiphany about them,” Nolan tries to joke, but it doesn’t quite land.

He looks a little sideways, looks a little off, looks the way Travis feels. 

“Felt like a date, bud.”

The noise that comes out of Nolan’s mouth sounds like he just got boarded. 

“I was...I don’t know, it’s stupid.” Nolan won’t look up from the bead of condensation sliding down his glass.

“You were what?”

Nolan doesn’t say anything.

“Pats, what were you doing?”

“I wanted to, like...woo you.”

Travis thinks over the last week, thinks about the places they’ve been and the things they’ve done, and his smile spreads until it’s grown so wide his cheeks hurt. He reaches out to curl his fingers around the back of Nolan’s neck. “Bud, consider me wooed.”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

He can feel Nolan’s neck going hot under his hand. Nolan still isn’t looking at him, but what Travis can see of his face looks pinched.

“Hey, hey, look at me.”

Nolan glances up.

Travis is still smiling. “If you want me to shut up, you gotta do it yourself.”

“What?”

“Kiss me, asshole.”

Nolan’s eyes are comically wide. “Wait. Yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Yes.”

He’s not quite expecting a lap-full of Nolan, but it’s the opposite of a problem.

Nolan swings his leg across and sits on Travis’s thighs, hands on either side of Travis’s face.

“You better not be fucking with me.”

Travis gets his hands on Nolan’s ass. “For once in my life, I am not fucking with you.”

Nolan kisses him, hard, a flash of teeth. Travis can’t say that he’s ever really thought about how Nolan might kiss, but it tracks that he’d give it everything he’s got.

He licks into Nolan’s mouth and revels in the punched-out sound that touches his lips. At some point, Nolan gets his hands into Travis’s hair and pulls just a little, just enough to expose his neck. The sensation of Nolan’s teeth dragging down the column of his throat sets his whole body shaking.

He tightens his grip on Nolan’s ass and is rewarded with Nolan grinding his hips down, pressing their bodies together.

“Fuck,” Travis breathes, and Nolan huffs out a laugh before pushing down again.

“This whole time,” Nolan says between kisses, “I was so embarrassed about how easy I was for you. Didn’t know you were this easy for me.” He slides a hand between their bodies to wrap his hand around Travis’s dick through his sweats.

Travis leans his head forward to rest against Nolan’s chest. “Nol, Jesus, please,” he says, not entirely sure what he’s asking but hoping that Nolan gets it.

“I got you,” Nolan says, licking his palm before slipping his hand under the elastic.

The first touch of his fingers to bare skin makes Travis hiss. 

“Here, hang on, lemme,” Travis rambles nonsensically as lifts his hips to tug his sweats down. He wants to see Nolan’s massive hand on him.

Nolan works him excruciatingly slow at first, hand dragging with just enough friction that it makes Travis’s vision swim. 

“Nol, you gotta, I need,” Travis says, voice almost a whine.

Nolan nods and tightens his grip, lets Travis set the pace with the roll of his hips.

When Travis comes, eyes squeezed shut and Nolan’s mouth on his, he’s got one hand twisted so tightly in Nolan’s shirt that his knuckles are white.

The rush of blood in his ears fades out until all he can hear is the ragged sound of his own breathing and the slide of Nolan’s hand on himself.

“Wait, I wanna.” Travis slaps his hand over Nolan’s and Nolan takes the hint to stop. “Can I blow you?”

“Have you ever done that before?”

Travis absolutely has not. “No, but I think I can figure it out.”

The way Nolan is looking at him is hungry, borderline predatory. “Shit, okay.”

He pushes Nolan off his lap and slides to his knees. It’s kind of terrifying to be sitting with Nolan’s dick so close to his face, if he’s being honest with himself.

The first lick is tentative, curious, and he can hear Nolan suck air in through his teeth.

The second pass of his tongue has a little more purpose before he slides his mouth down.

Nolan’s hips buck up and Travis gags.

“Sorry sorry sorry,” Nolan chants.

“Yeah, that’s what we’re _not_ gonna do, bud.” Travis slings one arm over Nolan’s hips and presses down before putting his mouth back.

And yeah, Travis has never sucked a dick before, but there’s something about it he likes. Maybe it’s just that it’s Nolan.

And Travis knows, objectively, that he can’t be very good at this, as he tries to do the things girls have done to him that he enjoyed. It doesn’t seem to matter, though, if the way Nolan’s fingers keep flexing against his shoulders are any indication.

Nolan is so, so quiet when he comes, striping up Travis’s shirt. making the mess between them worse. When he catches his breath, he manhandles Travis back onto the couch.

“We should shower,” Travis says, wiping his filthy hand on his sweats.

“In a minute.”

“We’re gonna ruin your couch.”

“Then I’ll buy a new one.”

Travis is never gonna stop pushing his buttons. “But Nol-”

“Will you shut the fuck up for two minutes and just.” Nolan wraps an arm around him and pulls him down to his chest.

The fact that Nolan is a cuddler is a secret Travis will probably have to take to his grave.

Travis bides his time for a few more minutes but everything is starting to get into the crusty, flaky phase and it’s decidedly gross.

“Okay, as much as I’d like to stay here cuddling with you, we really need to shower.”

“S’not cuddling.”

“Sure, bud. Get up and I’ll wash your hair.”

Nolan looks considering. “Deal.”

It’s great that Nolan has one of those fancy showers with the shower heads on both sides because, the last time Travis showered with someone, he’d ended up pushed out from under the spray and frozen his ass off.

He threads his fingers into Nolan’s wet hair, massages gently, trying to remember how the girl who cuts his hair always does it. Nolan’s eyes drift shut as Travis’s hands work.

“I can’t believe you tried to date me without asking,” Travis says.

“I can’t believe you were down.”

Travis leans Nolan’s head into the stream and watches the suds drip away.

“Always down for you, bud.”

Nolan’s mouth quirks into a grin. “Fuckin’ soft.”

**Author's Note:**

> I spend way too much time on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/fadeastride).


End file.
